


Confetti

by cafephan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Albumfic, Reality, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafephan/pseuds/cafephan
Summary: The ups and downs of a love spanning eleven years, set to Little Mix’s album Confetti.** Each ‘chapter’ is an individual, standalone oneshot set to each song **Aiming to update every Sunday.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Break Up Song

The wrapped box hasn’t moved in the five minutes since Dan dropped it on the bed and began staring at it, but it still feels like its mocking him.

His phone lays on the nightstand still on do not disturb, and he hears Phil’s distant voice from somewhere else in the house, laughing along with some of the crew during a virtual merch meeting.

Dan chose this time for a reason, so he forces himself to pick up the box, walk over to the dresser (brushing aside the multiple balled up socks that Phil leaves everywhere) and peels back the wrapping.

They’re still as beautiful as they were when he saw them online, if not more so, and his heart does beat a little faster when he picks one up, twirling it around in his hands.

He’s truly come on leaps and bounds with his fashion over the last few years, finding the confidence to slowly transition from the graphic tees and skinny jeans combo - though they do still take up some space in his wardrobe - into the slightly obscure, and indulging in a few expensive pieces that make him feel a million bucks. Sometimes he looks like a walking Alexander McQueen model, but it’s hardly something he’ll complain about.

But as he holds one of his new boots in his hands, rubbing his thumb across the material, he pauses for a second. It’s not like it’s his most risqué purchase, not by a long shot, but this feels more impactful somehow.

Because these boots, since the second he saw them, matched with a million outfits he has in his wardrobe - from the casual to the formal. Essentially, he was willing to sacrifice multiple pairs of shoes he’s worn and loved for years.

Admittedly they were a 1am purchase one night when Phil fell asleep first and Dan couldn’t find himself to follow suit, but when he saw the email confirmation later in the day, he still smiled and didn’t regret it in the slightest.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, taking off his socks and placing the boot next to his foot, ready to slip in. 

Again, he pauses. A specific memory from university finds its way into his mind, of how, during a night out, he swapped shoes with a female friend since her boots were hurting her feet and she wouldn’t be able to make it back to her dorm if she didn’t get rid of them, and Dan was the only one to volunteer swapping. They made him feel confident, he remembers that vividly, but the lighthearted jeers from the rest of the group of friends consisting of the same slurs he’d had for years prior made him shy away, shut the memory and repress it as if his life depended on it.

It’s not a big deal, he knows that, everyone can wear what they want and it doesn’t have to mean anything. Just for him, it’s been a struggle for a fair few years. His time in the drama club at school - as shortlived as it was - with the bullies jeering every chance they had, calling him every name under the sun. Though he learned to tune them out, the words still stuck, as they would for anyone.

Through the years it’s gotten better, it started with the odd painting of his nails - during which time Phil would always ask for his to be painted too, though he quickly took it off since he chipped it as soon as he stood up, and couldn’t be bothered to keep re-applying it - then graduated to a few more ‘Dan outfits’, as their fanbase dubbed them, and learning to care a little less about the comments (Phil’s compliments were always louder anyway), to that one instagram picture, lace and a glass of wine - a part of him still can’t believe he did it.

Viewers are always tweeting him outfit ideas, and never once have any of them mocked the fashions they now associate with him, instead they give him ideas of how to accessorise them. Along with the occasional fursuit, but he freely admits he brings that upon himself. And definitely does not bookmark any.

And now he holds one of the viewer recommendations in his hands; a simple boot, really, with some basic embroidery on one side, and a section at the bottom that he associates with movies mocking 80s fashion - where the clear section stereotypically hold a goldfish swimming around, these boots have flowers, of different hues and colours, and every time Dan stares at each petal he falls in love a little more.

The tweet was a link to the boots along with ‘dan i can’t afford these but i know u can so do a bitch a favour and get ur expensive loving ass into them x’, and so he did just that. Or was planning to, at least.

Since his coming out, he couldn’t have asked for a better response. The doors that have opened for him to inspire others that may be in the position he was once in, are remarkable, and the burden that was lifted was greater than he imagined it would be.

If he wasn’t so tarred by toxic masculinity growing up, he wonders where he’d be right now. If he’d still be out and proud, if he’d still be living with his boyfriend of eleven years, if he’d have a wardrobe full of monochrome or a rainbow.

He remembers seeing a tweet that today should be ‘worldwide break up day’, in which everyone breaks up with a toxic element of their lives. Some people were immediately on board, others asked for a change in name as they were in happy relationships. Whilst in a happy relationship himself, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t roll his eyes a little. 

Dan simply set a reminder on his phone the night before, knowing that Phil’s merch meeting would be taking place for the next couple of hours, and it was the perfect opportunity. 

Someone beneath the tweet linked a Spotify playlist of songs to go along with everyone breaking up with their toxicity - and Dan had saved it when he first saw it, and now his finger only hovers above the button for a second before hitting shuffle.

As the first self-love song blares out of the bedroom speakers, he slips his foot into the boot, and the same with the other.

He watches his own eyes light up in the mirror as he looks at his reflection. 

Without as much as a second thought, he practically sprints into one of the back rooms to grab one of the spare ringlights, places it beside the mirror and angles it at himself.

The light gleams off of the bottom of the boot, casting tiny beams of colourful light from the flowers onto the opposite wall, and Dan can’t stop himself from grinning.

The song reaches its chorus, and so Dan begins to spin, holding out his arms and singing the positive lyrics out from the top of his lungs.

For all the times toxic masculinity has fucked him over, caused him to shy away and resent parts of himself, he spins once more and grins a little wider.

The boots feel like clouds under his feet, and the afternoon sunlight casts another spotlight onto him through the window.

He gets through a couple more songs and a few more dance moves that definitely will not be leaving the sanctity of the room, before his legs begin to slightly ache, so he reaches to turn down the music, and only then catches sight of the figure in the doorway.

Immediately, his blood runs cold and he rushes to take off the boots, feeling very much like he’s been walked in on at his most vulnerable; though being walked in on naked and pleasuring himself would probably be less embarrassing.

“Don’t take them off on my account,” Phil says, walking over to sit beside him on the bed. 

“Sorry,” Dan says, it’s almost instantaneous. He can almost feel the progress he’d made over the past hour slipping through his fingers. “I’m probably going to return them.”

“They don’t fit?” Phil asks. 

“They fit fine, it’s just-“ 

“It’s just?” Phil cocks his head to the side.

“You know.” Dan stands up and walks back over to put the boots back into the box, with a small sigh.

Phil follows him, and wraps his arms around him from behind. 

“You looked really happy,” he says, squeezing Dan a little. “I don’t want you to return them if they make you happy.”

“Bit weird though, isn’t it?” Dan tries to laugh, but it sounds even weaker than he expected.

“Why is it weird?”

Dan doesn’t reply, instead finishes putting the boots back in the box and gently removes Phil’s arms from around him, and wraps his own arms around his torso.

“I think they’d really go with that baggy striped jumper, personally,” Phil says, going back over to Dan’s phone and turning the volume back up. 

At this, Dan bites his lip; he’d thought the same thing. 

“Can I at least see if i’m right, if you’re sending them back?” Phil asks, a warm smile on his face. “No harm no foul.”

Still unsure of the angle Phil’s taking, Dan wordlessly reaches into the wardrobe, takes out the jumper in question and drapes it over his shirt. He pauses before reaching back into the box to retrieve the boots, and Phil’s simple nod is all he needs.

Turns out they were both right.

“I always knew I had a career as a personal shopper,” Phil grins, “But then again it does help when the person you dress can pull off everything.”

Dan only offers a small smile, and he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“I have to say though,” Phil says as he gets to his feet again and walks over, “I’m a little hurt you have been keeping some dance moves from me, where were these during all the afterparties and youtube events?”

He holds out a hand.

“Show me them.” 

When Dan doesn’t move, Phil shrugs and tries his best to imitate what he saw from the doorway, and it’s only seconds before Dan is nearly keeling over in laughter.

“I definitely did not do that.”

“Then show me how it’s done! My shitty dancing can only make you look better by comparison!”

And so Dan does, and Phil copies, they dance awfully to the swell of the chorus, and collapse onto the bed into fits of laughter soon after. 

“Please keep them,” Phil whispers once they’ve calmed down, and are just staring up at the ceiling, chests still ever so slightly heaving. He reaches over to gently take Dan’s hand. “I know you’re thinking about what those twats at school used to say, and that’s why you want to return them.”

“How do you know?”

Phil squeezes his hand. “Eleven years, Dan.”

Dan lifts his leg to look at the boot. “You really like them?”

“I like them if they make you smile like you were. Doesn’t hurt that they’re actually gorgeous, though.”

“Thank you,” his leg drops back down, and he shuffles over into Phil’s open arm. “Even though you weren’t supposed to see any of that.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil replies, stroking his fingers along the material of Dan’s jumper. “But next time I want to try the boots, maybe they’ll be the key to me being able to dance!”

Dan laughs. “Maybe. But if you stretch them with your clown feet, I will have to throw you out on the balcony.”

Phil simply hums in amusement, and pulls Dan closer.

“I think Norman’s ready for his dinner, you know.”

“So how about me and my boots go and feed him?”

Phil clicks his tongue. “Or...”

“You realise us sharing each other’s clothes and stuff started out as us mocking that stereotype.”

“And yet look where it’s gotten us,” Phil gets them both up to a sitting position, “Gimme.” He gestures towards the boots.

Dan feels like his face is going to split in half, he’s smiling so widely as Phil admires himself wearing the boots in the mirror.

“Despite the fact I feel like i’m going to faceplant the floor any second, I feel great,” he says, placing his hands on his hips. “Runway, nightclub, aesthetic street in Paris, aisle at Tesco; who cares, Lesty’s looking his besty.” He spins and looks at Dan, does the most dramatic wink, and kicks up his leg, nearly toppling over.

“I think Lesty needs to give it a resty,” Dan teases, leaning back on his hands, still admiring the sight in front of him.

Phil flips him off and slowly takes off the boots.

“So this break up day for a toxic trait, did it work?” 

Dan taps his finger to his chin. “Well, all I want to do is have a photoshoot in my new boots and lace overshirt so i’ll let you do the maths on that one.”

“You’ll do better than that,” Phil reaches over for his phone and wiggles it in his hand, “You’ll let me be the photographer. Plus, I might need help with the maths, I lost track at fifty plus nineteen.”

Dan scoffs. “You did not just make a 69 joke. All boot privileges are revoked for you.”

“Unfair,” Phil pouts, “I get punished for being a comedy genius.”

“You get no rights because you’re a gross old man.”

Phil points to his ring finger. “I fucking will be a gross old man by the time you get around to this.”

“I will propose to you right here right now if you can guarantee you won’t fight me as to who gets to wear the boots on the day.”

Phil glances from Dan’s amused smile, to the boots, and back again.

He narrows his gaze. “We’ll negotiate.”

He then spins on his heel and walks out of the room, making exaggerated stomping sounds as he goes.

Dan follows soon after, still feeling on a high, and spends the rest of the night scrolling through the other outfit recommendations, clicking until his wish list is overflowing, smile never faltering.


	2. Holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may be aware that i’ve already done a songfic for this song when it was first released, called Touch Me Like a Summer Night, and i really wish i would have decided to do an albumfic before i posted that considering i had to write a whole new one yay me

They both agreed that they had a bad feeling about the day ahead as soon as they woke up, so it comes as little to no surprise when Phil checks his email and sees the (the owner assures them very regretful) cancellation of this year’s weekend getaway.

It’s a yearly tradition they’ve had for the best part of a decade now, they take it in turns to book somewhere remote, and they just go for a weekend, nothing but them, a cosy hotel room, and time as endless as the sea they always seem to find themselves gravitating towards.

“Well, can’t say we didn’t expect it,” Dan mumbles, and lets his spoon drop gently against the side of his cereal bowl. 

“We’re allowed to be disappointed, though,” Phil replies, and lightly taps his foot against Dan’s leg under the table. 

The gesture makes Dan smile for a second, but it soon drops from his face, and he gets up to put his bowl in the sink.

“I am,” he squeezes Phil’s shoulder as he passes back by him. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

He then excuses himself to go and do something or other, and Phil stays at the table, tapping his fingers against the wood in a messy rhythm, lost in his own mind.

The radio is still playing faintly, background noise to their previous breakfast conversation, and it’s at the end of a particularly upbeat, poppy song that Phil jumps up, chair nearly falling over in the process, grabs his keys and lets the front door gently slam behind him.

—

As he begins the ascent back up the stairs, he checks his phone for the first time since he left, seeing the multiple missed calls and texts from Dan; the texts going from simply asking where he went, to asking if he got kidnapped, to then stating that if Phil didn’t reply he’ll think twice about paying the ransom. And the final asking for Phil to bring chocolate back from wherever he is.

He doesn’t respond as he creeps back into the kitchen, clears up the remnants of breakfast as quietly as he can, and unpacks his new purchases, spreading them around the surface of the table.

Of course, when does the universe ever give Phil a break, so as he reaches into the cupboard for a plate, the pile of saucepans come tumbling out and clatter over the floor.

With annoyingly ninja-like reflexes, the bedroom door swings open and Dan comes padding down the hallway. He eyes the spread of fruit on the table along with whatever else Phil found in the chilled section at their local supermarket.

“Are we redoing this day or something? Because I wouldn’t complain.” Dan gestures to the table, and Phil grins.

“We’re still having our annual mini-holiday, i’m making sure of it!”

Seconds later, Dan’s grin is matching Phil’s, and he walks over, and pops a section of watermelon into his mouth.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is the shop being out of kiwi, every hotel breakfast always has kiwi.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Neither of us like kiwi.”

“But it’s part of the experience! There’s always the food left over that nobody eats in holiday buffets!”

Where Phil’s expecting a sarcastic response, he’s surprised when Dan walks around the table and pulls him into a hug, arms wrapping around Phil’s middle. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles into Phil’s hair. 

Phil squeezes him back and reaches over to grab a grape, but somehow manages to drip juice onto Dan’s shoulder in the process, and his heart swells when Dan squeaks before reaching to grab a grape and squeeze the juice onto Phil’s head in retaliation.

More food ends up on the floor than in their stomachs, and Phil is already internally groaning at having to clean it all up, but the way that Dan is laughing hysterically, covered in various pieces of fruit and clutching at his stomach, makes it all worth it.

—

After lunch, Dan has a meeting, so shuts himself in the office, and the second the door closes, Phil takes off in the direction of their storage closet.

By the time Dan comes back out, and absentmindedly flops onto the sofa beside Phil, Phil almost wonders if he’s ever going to notice.

Then Dan jerks his head back up from Phil’s shoulder, and the world makes sense again.

“Are you going to ask?” Phil says.

Dan shakes his head. “I like it better this way,” he presses on Phil’s head for leverage as he gets to his feet. “I love the way your weird mind works, like who else would even think of dragging a kid’s paddling pool into the lounge in front of a fake fireplace, in the mid-afternoon?”

“One of my many quirks, enjoyed only by you.”

At this, Dan grins. He strips down, and settles into the paddling pool as best he can, legs hanging over the edge. 

“You’re really going to make me do this alone? You need to join in on your gesture. Not that i’d put it past you to do this just to get me naked.”

“I don’t think i’d be able to fit, to be honest.”

Dan narrows his eyes. “We’ve fit into beds smaller than this pool.”

A minute later they’re squashed against each other, naked limbs crossed over and under.

“So this is better than a hotel pool, right?”

Dan flicks water over Phil’s chest. “None of the places we’ve been to for the past four years have had pools.”

Phil freezes, and slams his palm against his forehead. “I think I may have got ahead of myself when I was planning.”

Dan hums in amusement. “Old habits die hard.”

— 

The next instalment of their home-holiday consists of Phil being locked in the bedroom for a couple of hours, attempting to follow a YouTube tutorial of how to fold a towel in the shape of a swan.

At first, Dan would occasionally knock, his curiosity getting the better of him, but with Phil not responding each time, he gave up and went to play on his switch in the lounge.

When the video has replayed six times and a small pile of their bath towels lay in the en-suite in various failed attempts, Phil texts Dan to come in.

The first thing Dan does when he enters is grip the doorframe to steady himself whilst he doubles over in laughter at the best swan attempt of them all.

When Phil bites his lip and feels his cheeks reddening, Dan walks over and picks up the towel creature, observing from every angle.

“I think it might be my favourite interpretation of a giraffe i’ve ever seen, can’t say i’ve ever been to a hotel that leaves towel giraffes on the bed.”

“It’s a swan.”

Dan spins it around in his hand again, scrutinising more closely. He glances over to Phil in amusement, and presses the tip of his finger against the neck and gently bends it.

“I don’t know what kind of swans you see in your warped mind, mate,” Dan says, and rests the (barely passable) swan on the dresser.

He then climbs into the bed and fits into Phil’s side.

“Should I be expecting any more hotel interpretations tonight?”

“The well of inspiration ran dry after these three, sorry.”

“I’m not,” Dan snuggles in closer. “I think this might be my favourite one we’ve had.”

At this, Phil pulls away to look at Dan quizzically. “We’ve been to so many places, we’ve been to  _Japan_ ,  and you’re saying your favourite is me panic buying all the fruit from Tesco, bringing a paddling pool into the lounge, and creating a cursed towel swamp creature?”

“Yep,” Dan replies without missing a beat. “Turns out i’m a simple man, underneath it all.”

“Unbelievable,” Phil says under his breath as he settles back down, but his heart is beating ten times faster and he feels an undeniable sense of pride.

Dan swats his chest lightly. “If you dare undermine my romantic declaration again, weird ass swan is going on cleanup duty.”

“He’s too young for that!”

“Then don’t test me.”

Phil rests his cheek against Dan’s hair. 

“Are you really willing to do this again?” Dan asks.

“If you’re willing to deal with an overbearing amount of holiday puns.” Phil tries to suppress his grin, especially when he hears Dan’s groan.

“Yep,” Dan gets up and reaches for his laptop on the bedside table. “I’ll get looking for next year’s place.”


	3. Sweet Melody

—

It’s nearing eleven at night when Phil’s bi-weekly virtual quiz night with his uni friends comes to an end. As soon as they all say goodbye and Phil closes the laptop, the bedroom door swings open and Dan pads into the room, walking into the kitchen.

He picks up an apple and tosses it around in his hands as he leans against the wall.

“Can I please guess?”

Phil smiles. “You can, but I bet you’re going to be surprised.”

Dan gals his index finger against his chin. “Hm,” the apple rolls around in his other hand. “Fifth.”

“Third!” 

Dan’s mouth drops open in feigned shock. “That’s my bronze man!”

“Tied third, I should specify.”

Dan narrows his gaze. “You could have told me before I go doling out the compliments, now you’re just...” He pauses for a moment as he thinks, “Half-bronze man child.”

“And yet you’re the one in a relationship with me,” Phil teases with a grin.

Dan sighs dramatically. “If only it weren’t for the sweet, sweet music we make.”

“You really can’t go one conversation without an innuendo, then?”

“I’m just so good at them and you always line me up for them.”

When Dan giggles at his own joke, another innuendo, Phil flips back open his laptop and beckons him over. 

Dan leans on the back of the sofa as Phil clicks the link from one of his uni friends. Whilst they wait for it to load, Dan begins absentmindedly carding his fingers through Phil’s hair.

“Oh those Leicester eyes,” Dan reads the title of the YouTube page the link has lead them to. “I have to give them points for originality, we do grow tired of a million songs of Ibiza and Paris, why not Leicester?”

Phil laughs, and leans into Dan’s arms that are wrapped around from behind.

“Have you already watched this, out of curiosity?” Dan asks.

“Haven’t had time, they only sent it to me about ten minutes before we finished.”

He clicks play and the song begins. The artist fades in from black, guitar in hand. He has sweeping brown hair and sparkling eyes, reflecting from the harsh light he has positioned behind the camera.

The words slip from his lips as he sings, the soft guitar melody accompanying him. It’s a song about pining, unrequited affection. 

They both find themselves slowly nodding along, until the video fades to black, before cutting back to the artist as he introduces himself and asks viewers to subscribe to his channel.

“He has the YouTube game down already, fair play to him,” Dan ruffles Phil’s hair as he goes to stand back up. “Bet he passes us in less than a year.”

As the video ends on his wide smile, Phil feels himself suddenly tense. Dan takes notice, as he laughs and gently flicks the side of Phil’s head.

“Relax, if you want this guy’s instagram to be the new subject of your four in the morning binges, don’t let me stop you.” 

Phil leans his head back to look up at him, and purses his lips together. “I just now realised why they sent this to me.”

If Phil ever needed proof that their mind meld was still very much intact, the way that Dan’s face fell the next moment proved it tenfold.

Dan glances back over to the screen, where the singer is still grinning at the camera in the final shot of the video.

“Oh,” he presses his lips into a fine line. “So that’s-“

Phil nods in response, and he feels like he’s been plunged into a ice cold sea when Dan suddenly retracts his arms, leaving Phil’s head to harmlessly fall against the headrest of the sofa.

“Excuse me,” Dan mumbles. He walks back over to the kitchen, picking up his discarded apple in the process, and drops it back into the fruit bowl, still not having taken a bite. He then sets down the corridor.

“Dan-“

“I’m fine, Phil,” Dan cuts him off, and the quiet closing of the door behind him echoes through the rest of the house.

—

After eleven years, they’ve gotten to know each other pretty much inside and out. They know each other’s tells, when to go after the other and when they need space.

It’s around one in the morning when Phil goes after him, gently pushing open the only closed door on that floor of the house.

There’s only one light on in the room, over the piano in the corner. Dan is slumped over the piano, playing gentle chords in succession.

Wordlessly, Phil walks over and sits beside him on the bench, their thighs pressing together. He rests his head on Dan’s shoulder, still not saying a word.

Eventually, Dan sighs. 

“He has some nerve, you know,” Dan says, taking Phil by surprise after such a long silence. “Daring to make a song about you after what he fucking did.”

“We don’t know for sure it’s about-“

“Leicester eyes,” Dan cuts him off. “Either he thinks he’s a subtle fucking lyrical genius or he just doesn’t give a flying shit and this is his plea for you to come back to him. I cant believe I didn’t notice before, he sings your surname in practically every verse.” 

Phil simply reaches over and laces his fingers with Dan’s.

“I mean,” Dan continues, “I could write you a song, if I wanted to. But I prefer to not air all my relationships on the internet, unlike some.”

“You said we were husbands in an interview.”

“As a joke!”

“I’ve heard the recording.”

Dan sighs again.

“My point is-“

“I know,” Phil interjects, and squeezes his hand.

They fall into silence again, Dan leans to rest his head against Phil’s.

“I’m not so good with the words, but I did come up with something whilst I was just fucking around with some chords.”

Dan spends the next few minutes playing the new melody he made, it’s rough in most places but it’s still the most beautiful thing he’s heard.

“What’s it called?” Phil asks as the last key rings out.

“When I was feeling my most petty I called it Sweet Melody.”

“A new take on your favourite innuendo.”

Dan laughs quietly. “Yeah, sure, let’s go with that.”

“I don’t know what to do about that song, though, considering it’s hardly subtle and you know they’re bound to see it.”

“Then we remind them who is the only one ‘falling into those Lester eyes’,” Dan includes the air quotes and sings the words in the style of the song. 

“They’ll probably write about us falling in love to that song, you know.”

Dan grins. “Oh I know, that’s my favourite part of all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer; leicester is a place in england that’s pronounced as lester 
> 
> listen i have to do thirteen of these oneshots so some of the plotlines are going to be thinner than others

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please subscribe so you don’t miss future instalments!
> 
> Friendly reminder each chapter is an individual, standalone oneshot. Some songs’ lyrics have had to be interpreted differently so take these with a pinch of salt.
> 
> Tumblr; cafephan


End file.
